And the thunder rolls
by prdnanny
Summary: So now here he is again, a storm raging across the sky, no equal to the storm that is ravaging his soul. A.N. Always was on tnt today...This was written after it premiered which made me decide to post it again. own castle? only in my dreams


As a child he always hated thunderstorms.

They would put his imagination into overdrive.

Wondering how the lightning could be so bright, where it would strike next, how close it would get, the way it would light up his room. The shadows that would appear, turning innocent objects into things of terror.

How he would venture from his hiding place under his bed, his favorite stuffed animal clutched in his tiny hand and make his way to his mother's room hoping to find solace there.

Then as a teenager in boarding school how in a storm his brain would come alive with stories of wizards with magic crystals, witches and warlocks. Gargoyles and fire-breathing dragons. sorcerers, damsels in distress and the knights that would rescue them

As a fledgling writer he would write the villains in his stories using the cover provided by the storms to do their dastardly deeds. The thunder covering up the screams of their victim's and how the rain might wash away the evidence. All except for that one piece that would evade the ravages of the storm and provide the one clue that would bring justice to the family left behind. He found a hero for these stories,and this character matured along the way as he did.

But he got bored with his hero and killed him off.

He was floundering again, every storm that happened during this time seemed to be laughing in his face. It brought no words, no sudden bursts to his imagination. The only brilliance he experienced was the lightening that flashed across the stormy skies.

Till she walked into his life on a clear moonlit night.

She said his name, he turned expecting to hear the same line he had heard countless times before.

His eyes met hers and it was like a bolt of lightning had struck him.

Their relationship grew like a storm brewing in a summer's sky.

Crackling with energy, starting out with a few giant drops of rain, a flash of light interspersed every few thunder a soft noise rumbling in the distance.

The more time they spent together the storm grew in intensity.

Then like a violent storm raging across the sky, they collided.

Words flying like leaves torn from trees that bow down with the force of a storm.

Then like the aftermath of a violent storm there was nothing left, just accept and move on.

So now here he is again, a storm flashing across the sky.

Alas, it's no equal to the storm raging in his heart.

Every flash of light slashing through the dark sky becomes like a knife to his wounded heart The thunder rolling in the distance has nothing on the keening that is ravaging his soul.

He walks to his computer and opens her file. _The file_.

He stares at her face, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall like the rain that is pounding against the windows.

Gathering his strength, he takes a deep breath, then presses delete.

Another bolt of light flashes across the sky, as if it's angry at his decision.

God he thinks, he really hates thunderstorms.

He hears a knock at his door.

Knowing his daughter and mother aren't expected home he fears the worst.

He braces himself for what he thinks he's going to find on the other side of the door.

If it's about her, please let it be the boys on the other side.

His hand on the handle he hesitates, steeling himself, his head comes to rest on the cool metal of the door. Another soft knock brings him back from the thoughts that are running riot through his brain.

He turns the handle and opens the door.

She's standing there soaked to the skin by the storm that's still raging on.

"Beckett, what do you want?" he asks his voice cold.

"You, I just want you" she chokes out before she crashes into him her lips devouring his.

He pulls back asking her to explain.  
Then in a rush, the words pour out of her.

He pushes her against the door kissing her with fierce demanding passion.

They come apart, her hand cradling his face, the other resting with his over all that remains of the wound that almost took her from him forever. She looks deep into his eyes, smiling, taking him by the hand leading him to his bedroom

The last coherent thought he has as they lay tangled together is that he really loves thunderstorms.


End file.
